Kindred Streets
by Watercat51
Summary: Before Frank Kohanek, there was another San Francisco detective who came to Julian Luna's attention.


3

_In case anyone wonders, the footstool is based on a real life incident. Living in a University town could be quite an interesting experience._

_I was going to list this as a crossover, but there is no category for The Streets of San Francisco._

* * *

Kindred Streets

On one of San Francisco's rolling hills, in the midst of a cozy, middle-class neighborhood stood a modest bungalow. As the moon passed before one of the many clouds scudding across the night sky, a dark-haired, black-clad man slipped casually across the well kept lawn. Quietly forcing the door, he paused as he crossed the threshold. _Oh, Good God!_ He thought dryly as he waved his hand in front of his face. _It's a good thing I'm no longer human. I may have been from New Orleans, but even a hundred and forty years ago, no one had __**this**__ much garlic in their home. I wonder how the human can even breathe. _Julian Luna counted at least two hundred strings of garlic hanging from the ceiling of the 1920's era home. His eyebrows rose and his eyes started rolling as he noticed a gauntlet of crosses carefully placed just after the garlic 'curtain'.

The Prince's enforcer just sighed as he pushed his way through the curtain of garlic and advanced toward the open-mouthed man standing the living area, pausing on the way to cross himself as he passed through the array of crosses. Julian noted the look of horrified disbelief on the human's face as he moved closer to craggy-faced man with the bulbous nose. _I detect the influence of Bram Stoker here. Hmm … and a few Hammer films as well,_ Julian thought as his eyes rapidly scanned the room until they rested upon the colorful, no make that **extremely** colorful, upholstered footstool.

_Was that …? _Julian scanned the various shades of red in the intricate folds and valleys of the uniquely upholstered object. Bursting into laughter, Julian crossed the remaining distance, reached out, and calmly plucked the gun from the stupefied man standing before him. His eyebrows rose as he noted the bullets he was removing were silver. _That must have cost him a pretty penny. Too bad they're no more effective against us than regular ones. _

Snatching up the stool, Julian placed his other hand on the man's shoulder and firmly steered his captive to an armchair with a direct view of the fireplace separating the living area from the dining room. Once he'd pushed the shell-shocked man into it, Julian spun the chair 180 degrees as he dropped the stool in front of the chair and calmly seated himself. Thereby providing himself with an unobstructed view of the outside through the bay window he could see over his captive's shoulder while still maintaining a close watch on the increasingly uneasy man. The Kindred enforcer was impressed. He could pick up the human's psychic unease, but the man's face and body reflected little of that unease.

Still laughing, Julian said, "A woman's crotch? - Michael Stone, the Kindred are **not **Japanese demons. A pudenda will not stop me. Silver-tinged eyes flashed with sardonic amusement as Julian Luna continued, "We have laws and we have **our **law enforcers. We do not have to kill to feed, we do not kill for pleasure, and we do not tolerate those who do. Although I am pleased you've gotten beyond Bram Stoker and the Hammer B grade movies of the fifties and sixties: We're not your traditional 'vampires' either, Lieutenant." The Kindred enforcer's precise diction and slightly pained expression made it obvious that the previous comment was not to be taken as a compliment.

Julian leaned forward and whispered confidingly, "We do guard our secrets … and we do protect ourselves and our existence. We call it the Masquerade. Humans can never know we exist." He shrugged. "For some reason, once you find out we do exist, you persist in hunting us. I'm sure you see our problem with that, Lieutenant Stone." Julian's tone was dry, "Our lives are as precious as yours. Laws were broken when Eddie's overreaching carelessness allowed you to learn of us."

The Prince's enforcer put out a hand in response to the human's defiant glare. "Don't worry, you do have choices. Death is not your only option." Julian smiled at the Detective Lieutenant's predictable response_. Death before dishonor: Funny, I would have thought he would have started with the "I will __**never **__agree to become a vampire" one. _Julian Luna made a decision and cracked one of Daedalus' special capsules under the man's nose. Stone slumped back into the chair.

"Get's 'em every time, doesn't it?" Julian glanced up as he heard the cheerful comment to his right and saw his Gangrel friend, Stevie Ray, step from the shadows between kitchen and dining room.

"I would hope so, Stevie Ray," the coolly collected voice of Daedalus was heard as the Nosferatu appeared behind the Ventrue enforcer. "… and what are we going to do with the good lieutenant, Julian?"

Julian Luna turned his head, a smug smile on his lips as he said, "I think Lieutenant Stone has just earned himself a trip to see our Prince." _Michael Stone has shown himself to be brave, determined, intelligent and inventive, all virtues that would serve the Kindred well, especially the Ventrue. He __**has**__ earned himself a trip to see my sire. Archon can always use a man of Stone's talents. After this debacle the Kindred will need a larger presence within the police. Thinking of which, Sonny, would make a good cop. _Julian made a mental note to suggest the career change to his second eldest childe the next time he saw Sonny. _Stone could probably help with that too_.

Thinking near identical thoughts, the only difference of which was that the Nosferatu kept inserting Lieutenant, or Michael, in front of Stone whereas the Gangrel Primogen was content withjust the man's family name, Daedalus and Stevie Ray shared a quick glance._ Julian is scheming again. I've seen that look in his mismatched eyes before. Stone's control over his fear and his refusal to run from Julian, have impressed our Ventrue enforcer. With the addition of his intelligence and demonstrated investigational abilities, Julian is all but salivating over the thought of recruiting the man for the Ventrue. The only difference between Julian and Archon in this matter is that our Prince will be less obvious about his interest._

* * *

Deputy Chief of Police, retired, Michael Stone, dropped the phone back in its cradle as he smiled with pleasure. He was needed. His Prince, and brood-brother, had called to advise him of the suspected presence of a team of hunters in their city. Mike was pleased. The past ten years since his 'retirement' had been excruciatingly boring, especially since Mike still had the body of a fifty-something. An extremely fit fifty-something he thought with satisfaction as he as he turned to look into the hall mirror. That careless jerk, Fiori, did me a favor when he lost control of the docks thirty years ago. An unpleasant expression flitted across his face as his lips curved into a sardonic smirk. … _And the asshole finally paid for his crimes against the Kindred and our Masquerade, even if it did take Julian almost twenty years to trap him_. The retired detective sighed as he thought of their deceased sire, and former Prince. _Archon should have dealt with Eddie then. I had more than enough evidence against the man. Maybe, if he hadn't been feuding with the Manzanita Brujah our sire wouldn't have felt the need to play Eddie off against Sorrel. For someone who was a cautious and wise man, Archon, you really blew that one, buddy, and you left your favorite childe, and successor, in a really lousy situation. I'm grateful for your embrace and I still respect you. But good God man, if you hadn't orchestrated your final death, my sire or not, you and I would be having loud and prolonged 'discussions' on the subject. I've cause to be grateful to Julian too. He's the one who decided to bring me to you._

Mike smiled as he remembered that night.

* * *

Detective Lieutenant Michael Stone was nervous. No, he had to admit, but only to himself - He was afraid. He knew what he was up against: Blood sucking monsters from mankind's deepest, darkest past - Vampires and he was on his own. Everyone in the department would think he'd finally lost it except, he thought cynically, the infiltrators. The increasingly uneasy man glanced around his living area. Mike Stone hoped his preparations would hold. He ran through a mental checklist: Garlic and holy water at every window. Front and back doors - garlic curtains and cross gauntlet in place. He wasn't sure if all his protections would work. The Japanese demon trap was a long shot and the mobsters he'd been investigating for the last eight months were cruel and sometimes stupid bastards, but no stupider than their human equivalents and Michael couldn't imagine even the stupidest crook stopping to count every seed scattered in their path. Unfortunately, real life was rarely like Sesame Street. But bird seed was cheap and who knew - it might work and if it didn't he still had his ace in the hole. Mike's grip tightened on the revolver in his hand as he peered over the low railing separating his living room from the bay windows of his dining area. He didn't like the look of the night. If all else failed, he did have his silver bullets. He'd soaked them in holy water too and packed them with salt and garlic. In all his reading those four elements had been the most consistently mentioned as sovereign remedies for those plagued by vampires.

Mike snorted. The department really would consider him mad. Eight months ago he would have considered himself mad as well but, since the first time he saw Arnie Jacoletti, second in command to the head of the Dockworkers Union, Eddie Fiori, grow fangs and claws as the **vampire** had drained Mike's prized informant, Mike Stone had known differently. Mike still hated himself for his inaction. He'd just stood there in shock, not believing his eyes and ears. There was a full moon that night. He'd slipped away from his partner, Steve Keller, to meet with Billy Joe Foster. Billy Joe had called earlier to tell him that he had copies of a 'second' set of ledgers proving Eddie was not only embezzling from the dockworkers, but had also recorded the bribes and protection money Eddie had been extorting. Stone had hurried to meet his informant by the Nighthawks Diner, but he'd been too late. He'd arrived just in time to hear, Jacoletti say, "Eddie wants his files back." The creature's eyes were glowing silver and its eyeteeth had grown into fangs as it smiled when Billy Joe opened his mouth to scream. "Can't have that," Jacoletti said as it reached out with hands that suddenly sprouted claws to grab the panicking human. "Eddie wants you disposed of and I'm hungry. Two birds with one stone, aren't we both lucky," he said brightly as he sank his fangs in deeply and drained the man. Mike hated himself even more for being grateful the creature had been so busy with its 'snack', it had never noticed him twenty feet away hiding in the shadows behind a dumpster.

Once the creature had left with what was 'left' of Billy Joe, Mike had lost no time in getting himself to St. John's Oratory. He'd spent the night there, praying to every saint the good sisters at St. Augustine's Parochial School had pounded, oops -ever taught him. He'd also damn near set the place on fire before the sun finally rose. Mike snorted. He'd probably burnt up several months' worth of candles and now he knew it all would have been for naught if a Kindred **had **actually been pursuing him. The only thing the Kindred had in common with the mythical 'vampire' was that they both needed blood to survive. None of the traditional defenses worked against his Kin. They could even be out in daylight - if they fed.

Michael Stone had known something was wrong as he'd watched Julian Luna's oh-so-casual saunter through his painstakingly planned defenses. Then Mike was no longer nervous. Julian Luna had a lot of nerve. "I'd rather be dead than join up with your mob," he growled furiously. "I won't sell out the human race! My job is to protect and serve - I'm a cop. The dark-haired Kindred's smirk barely registered before the Lieutenant lost consciousness, a barely perceptible odor of vanilla and honey lingering in his nostrils.

* * *

His eyes opened. The craggy-faced man with the bulbous nose was seated in a wing-backed chair, tastefully upholstered in a grey and paisley pattern. Cheerfully crackling orange and red flames were wavering and dancing in the fireplace to his right. An antique bronze mirror hung above the spiral-carved, marble mantle. Seated to his right, in a chair twin to his own, sat a well-dressed gentleman of late middle-age. The man's wispy grey hair was brushed neatly back from his receding hairline. The guy reminded Mike of his high school principal, the late Father Corrigan, - all cool, dispassionate eyes calmly watching him out of a face showing only a hint of sardonic amusement. All the grey-haired man needed was a Mr. Rogers cardigan to make the picture complete. Lieutenant Michael Stone of the San Francisco PD was certain he did not like that cool, sardonic gaze aimed at his face.

Archon Raine, Prince of San Francisco's Kindred, was amused. His childe, and Enforcer, Julian was correct. Michael Stone was a brave and sensible man and the human hid his anxiety well. The man was also a danger to the Kindred if he could not be contained. San Francisco's Prince was about to indulge in one of the Kindred's favorite tactics upon meeting opposition - co-opting it. Keeping a wary watch in deference to the human's obviously simmering discontent and potential violent resistance, Archon sat, seemingly relaxed, his right forefinger resting against his lower lip. _I wonder how long it will take before my 'guest' begins to speak. _

Mike glared into the brown eyes of the man watching him with such a deceptively calm demeanor, before suddenly returning his gaze to the fire.

"If you don't want your mind dominated Lieutenant Stone, you should never have meddled in Kindred affairs. Averting your eyes will not protect you from anyone other than a newly made Kindred." The words were smooth, the voice calm and mild.

Michael's eyes flashed back to the grey-haired man's face. "Is that so, buddy-boy? Stone's anger was as palpable as the sarcasm- laced words dripping from his tongue. "And who would you be … the head demon? Killed any more humans lately?"

Unable to break away from the silver-flecked eyes of the one he'd labeled 'head demon,' Mike realized he'd lost the initiative - if he had ever had it. Those cool, silver-tipped brown eyes were watching him, daring Mike to continue. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Stone realized he was trapped. He'd been awake for several minutes now and the demon wasn't the only thing he'd noticed about his present quarters. This room was as deceptive as its owner and Michael Stone had no doubt about who owned this place. The grey-haired man was too confident, too much at home here - he also reeked of good taste, privilege and an obscene amount of money. The chairs they were sitting in were worth at least a couple of thousand a piece and the formal desk Mike saw out of the corner of his eye was some casually well made thing that he suspected was probably made of mahogany - handmade - and not later than the previous century. This man had money, influence and power and Mike's presence here confirmed it. Mrs. Stone's boy was in deep trouble.

Every book Mike had ever read and every movie Mike had ever seen had emphasized how 'strong' vampires were -no matter how old they looked. Yeah, he was trapped but, Michael Stone stiffened his spine and sat up straighter. He was human! He would not give in easily. At least, he could protect Steve. Stone defiantly met the head demon's eyes only to find that said demon had left its chair and those brown eyes were now inches from his own blue ones.

"This is one of the things we Kindred can do, childe." A sardonic voice spoke dryly into his ear as he was casually lifted from his chair, tucked under the man's arm and carried past the … was that ….? Mike stared at the painting to the left of the door he was now standing in front of. Keller would know for sure, but Mike would swear it looked like one of the Vermeer things Steve had carried on about the time they investigated the murder of a curator at the San Francisco Museum of Art.

The low sardonic voice spoke again as Mike was turned to face the voice's owner. Pale blue eyes once again caught by silver-flecked brown ones, Mike heart the voice continue, "… and this is another thing Kindred can do … Michael Stone. We are going to go for a walk, and you are not going to fight me."

_Who is he kidding?_ _I'm at least going to try._ Mike turned, ready to break away. He couldn't move. Several minutes later he still couldn't move.

"Would you prefer to be carried?" The man asked politely. "I thought not." With a wintery smile, Archon Raine motioned the man he hoped to recruit for the Kindred, the Ventrue and, most especially, for himself through the now opened door.

* * *

He had been walking through corridors of more glistening, glowing, highly polished wood than he could ever have believed existed outside of an episode of "Upstairs, Downstairs." _I wonder how many people he has to polish this. _Mike felt the reflection of his 'host's amusement at the back of his mind as they left the latest corridor and descended a wooden staircase into a cellar. He barely had time to notice the cellar walls were made of limestone blocks before he was walking through a maze of dusty, dry corridors. After, what seemed like, several minutes, they stopped in front of an area blocked off by a glowing haze. Mike could see the dust motes reflected in the ambient haze of light. His eyes narrowed. The haze was a barrier and, behind that barrier of hazy light stood Arnie Jacoletti. The vampire did not appear to be happy - several areas of its skin were badly burnt. Movement flickered to his right as Julian Luna pushed away from where he had been leaning against the cellar wall.

"Archon," Julian inclined his head respectfully to the man standing in front of Stone, stepping away from the industrial light switch he was guarding.

Mike's eyes narrowed. The coercive presence that had been present in the back of his mind since he'd left the head demon's room was gone. Now free, he spun to face the man who had brought him here, holding his mind captive to do so - Archon Raine, the shadowy vampire spider at the heart of the web Michael had been tracing for the last eight months.

"What is this?"Mike snapped sarcastically. "Is this vampire mob-justice for blood sucking murderous vampires … and just where do I fit in this?" Mike's voice rose in frustration.

"This is another thing Kindred do," was the cool reply. "We judge our own. We have our own laws and those laws have been broken; just as humans have broken human laws - and will continue to do so." The grey-haired man stood calmly in front of the seething human. "We call ourselves Kindred - not 'vampires.' A 'vampire' is something you humans invented to describe your fears of the night. … Oh, yes … we do need to feed from you, but we don't need to kill you -and those who do kill wantonly are condemned by our law. Mr. Jacoletti here," Archon flicked a disdainful glance at the now screaming creature behind the glowing barrier "… broke that law as well as an even more important law, but we need your testimony for that. We aren't barbarians, Lieutenant Stone. We have our laws and we have our governments.

My name is Archon Raine and I am Prince of this City, which means that, among other duties, I am the judge, jury, and executioner for the Kindred dwelling or even passing through here. "I believe you've met my enforcer, Julian Luna."

_That cool, dispassionate voice of his is starting to aggravate me. Does nothing excite the man? Is this all just a business proposition to him? Archon Raine is supposed to be the boss of bosses_. Mike Stone felt as if he was being patronized, and he did not like the feeling. He liked his situation even less when he glanced to his left and saw Julian Luna was now standing beside him.

* * *

Archon Raine mentally sighed, before stepping closer to the proud and touchy human. "I am not patronizing you. I am Ventrue. The Kindred are divided into several clans and each clan is distinguished by their own defining characteristics. The Ventrue are one of these clans. As I just said, I am Ventrue, as is my childe, Julian. We are the business men and politicians and we tend to be the movers and shakers of the Kindred world. We are the rulers: The other clans also call us arrogant," the grey-haired man commented dryly. "To be Ventrue is to be dispassionate. This does not mean we do not feel - only that we recognize dispassion can be both a tool and a weapon. A Ventrue in frenzy is not something any sane being wants to provoke. You have had a small taste, when we first met, of how useful a weapon dispassion can be."

Prince Archon continued, "You do not have the reputation of being a close-minded man, Michael Stone. Now, the only thing you know about us is what you've observed with the Brujah ilk …," Archon said with disgust as he gestured disdainfully at the sniveling Brujah before them. "… and what you have found in that amazing collection of conjecture, folk-lore, and outright foolishness" - Archon raised his right hand, forestalling the comment hovering on Stone's lips. "… Please, do not take my comment as a compliment," he said, his tone acerbic, before continuing, his face a study in slightly horrified bemusement. "Did you _**really**_ believe Julian was a Japanese demon?"

Michael Stone's feet shifted as his face reddened. Obviously he had been incorrect in at least some of his conclusions and some of his source material may have been less than accurate, but the words, "You still drink blood," burst through his lips as he stared into the face of the self-proclaimed 'Kindred Prince.' A wintery smile was on the 'Prince's' face as he replied to Mike's challenge.

"Yes, we do. We require it to survive. We don't have to kill our food sources. Can you say the same about yours?" Archon Raines' eyes were coolly measuring as he waited for his 'guest's' reply. "And how many of you survive on milk alone?" He asked politely."I do hope you won't bring up Kindred keeping humans as 'herds' later. We do not have, nor do we want 'barns' to house you and …" his voice hardened, "… if anyone in **my** city tried that they would meet their final death as soon as I found out about it … and I _**would**_find out about it."

_Well there's more than a hint of passion in the man's voice now. _Mike had just enough time to finish the thought before Archon continued. _I bet he would find out and I bet Raine would have Luna on his way as soon as he did._

Good. The Lieutenant appears to be considering my words: Archon was pleased with the way things were going so far. The threat to the Masquerade caused by Eddie Fiori's careless second in command had been contained. Michael Stone and Arnie Jacoletti were the last loose ends although, depending on what Archon found out from Mike, Eddie Fiori might be another 'loose end' Archon could dispose of. It was _good _to be the Prince.

"If the Kindred were the rampaging idiots and morons you humans supposed us to be, Michael Stone, how do you think we have survived so long? There are legends and myths concerning our existence for nearly as long as humanity has existed and, yet, we still survive. If we left trails of corpses wherever we went there would be hunters converging from all points of the compass. No species could, or should, be expected to tolerate a threat of that magnitude and, that is why we destroy 'beasts' like this one." Archon moved to stare through the shimmering light at the increasingly frantic Kindred 'walled' inside. "Your Primogen, and sire, has repudiated you, disowned you. Not only did you kill a human, not only did you let another human see you do it - **You didn't even notice the other human was there.**" The Prince's voice rose in incredulous disbelief and anger. "If _anyone _deserves to be considered too stupid to live: It is you Arnie Jacoletti, and if Michael Stone here confirms it then, I, as your Prince, condemn you to Final Death." Archon intoned before returning his attention to the flabbergasted Detective Lieutenant.

"Yes, our Primary Law, the one that must **not **be broken, is that a Kindred must **never **reveal what they are to anyone not of the Kindred." By the time he had finished speaking, the Prince of San Francisco's Kindred was standing in front of Michael Stone. At the slight wave of Archon's right hand, Julian slid behind Mike and pinned Stone's upper arms to the human's side.

"Tell me, Michael Stone," Archon ordered. "Did you see that man kill Billy Joe Foster? I need your verbal response, "Yes or no?"

Mike's eyes widened as he turned his head to the Kindred in the 'cell of light.' _My world can't deal with this. _His adam's apple bobbed up and down several times before he said, "Yes." Suddenly Archon's were the arms restraining him as he saw Julian Luna closing the main switch and the light wall blink out. Before the doomed Jacoletti could do more than move a foot, a pallid figure was behind the Kindred outlaw restraining Jacoletti's arms as Julian raised his right arm. A claw (?) extended from Luna's index finger as the Kindred Enforcer brought his arm slashing down across the Brujah's throat.

Mike heard Archon's voice speaking quietly into his ear. "This is Kindred justice and it is human justice as well. Julian will finish this, but now we need to discuss your future, Michael Stone."

* * *

The retired Deputy Chief shook his head. His sire could be a ruthless bastard, sometimes too ruthless but, in this case, Archon had been correct. Arnie Jacoletti had broken the Masquerade. His life had been forfeit. The Brujah had been a threat to both Kindred and humans. Mike was just as glad he hadn't known all the details of Julian's duties until after Archon had embraced him. Damn, but his sire had been a persuasive bastard too. Not as smoothly persuasive as Julian, his childe, and Mike's brood-brother but, Archon's persuasive talents had proven to be more than adequate to the task of answering and satisfying any objections Mike had come up with. Even after knowing of Archon's machinations concerning the Manzanita Brujah, Michael Stone regretted neither his embrace, nor the sire who had given him the gift of that embrace.


End file.
